


From a Wolf into a Lion

by HeWhoIsMany



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Corruption, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeWhoIsMany/pseuds/HeWhoIsMany
Summary: Ned Stark wants to leave King's Landing behind him, but his daughter doesn't agree. The wrong wish said at the wrong time makes of their hopes come true, but not as they'd imagined it.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	From a Wolf into a Lion

Recovering from a battle against Jaime Lannister, known by many as the Kingslayer, was not something even a great lord such as Eddard Stark could do expediently. After all, for all his political power and noble blood, he was simply a mortal man, like any other. The deaths of those in his personal guard who’d died trying to protect him had made that even more clear for him.

Still, it had been long enough that he was finally able to put into motion what he’d wanted to do for so long. Namely, leaving King’s Landing behind, once and for all. The southron cesspool was even worse than he’d imagined it would be, nothing but lies, murder, and the pleasantries that tried to hide them. When he next saw Robert, Eddard would give him back the infernal pin his oldest friend had put on his chest, and go home with his daughters.

Arya had taken the news rather well, but from the moment he’d informed Sansa of their upcoming trip back to Winterfell, she had alternated between despondency and childish rage. Eddard had known Sansa, easily the most southron in temperament of his children, would have the hardest time leaving the capital behind, but he had expected quite the elongated ordeal it was becoming.

That was why, on the morning that Eddard was to meet with Robert, and he was awakened by a rapping on his bedchamber door to find Sansa waiting patiently and calmly for him, he knew something was going on. He had not seen a smile on his auburn-haired daughter’s face since he’d told her of their departure, and just the night before, she had screamed at him with an impetuousness normally reserved for Arya. But now, she was standing there before him, hands behind her back, looking at her father with at least the appearance of daughterly love on her face. “May I speak with you privately, father?”

With a heavy sigh, Eddard nodded his head, letting Sansa into his bedchamber before giving the guard at the door a firm nod and closing it behind her. Turning towards his chipper daughter, he told her gravely, “While I am happy to see you in brighter spirits, Sansa, do not think this will be enough to change my mind.” He did his best to imbue his words with a firm sense of finality.

They didn’t seem to upset her, which he took for a good sign. Nodding her head slightly, she told him, “Of course, father, I understand.” Then, she took her hand from behind her back and extended them towards him, palms up, and he saw there was a small wrapped parcel sitting there. “I feel rather awful for how I’ve acted towards you lately, so I used my spending money to get this for you.” Impressed by the gesture, Eddard took the gift from his daughter’s hands and unwrapped it, revealing a small wooden box. Inside that, he found, was a ring, made of silver and inlay with some sort of grey gemstone. “It’s the colors of our house, so I thought it would look well on you.”

Normally, Eddard stark was not one for finery. The only piece of jewelry he wore was the signet of the Hand of the King, forced upon him by duty and honor. Still, there was something charming about this ring, and the sentimental attachment that came from his daughter buying it as a peace offering for him was enough to overwhelm his normal attitudes against adorning himself with it. Carefully, he took it out and placed it on the middle finger of his right hand, where it fit quite comfortably. Giving his daughter a rare smile, Eddard told her, “You are forgiven.” Then, he took a step closer to her, wrapped an arm over her shoulder, and placed a kiss on her forehead.

When he withdrew from her, he saw an odd look of intense concentration had taken over Sansa’s features, and when she opened her eyes to meet her father’s, there was determination in them. “Father, I do not believe we should leave King’s Landing.” Annoyed, Eddard let out a breath, but she continued her speech regardless. “There are so many more opportunities for me here! I could become Joffrey’s betrothed, and you have so much good you can do as Hand of the King!” The fact that his own potential good came second in her words was not lost on Eddard.

Setting his jaw, Eddard stiffly told her, “I thought I had made this clear, Sansa. You are leaving, we all are.” He would not brook any further disobedience from her on this matter. When it came to his children, Eddard was a far more tolerant man than many he knew, but there was only so much open defiance he could take before enough had truly been enough.

Looking as though she was on the edge of tears, Sansa spat, “You don’t understand me! You don’t know how suffocating Winterfell will be compared to here! Queen Cersei can see it, can see my potential!” Then, after taking a moment to suck in another breath through clenched teeth, she hissed, “I wish you were more like the Queen, then maybe you’d understand the pain I’m going through!”

Harsh words indeed, especially when Eddard knew far more about Queen Cersei and what she was capable of than Sansa did. He was ready to end the argument and send her to her room...when the ring freshly slid onto his finger began to feel cold. It went from room temperature, to chill, to bitingly icy in seconds, and Eddard hissed at the sensation, so close to pain, but numbing enough to avoid it. Looking at his hand was how he saw the first changes develop, saw the sorcery at work for the first time.

It all began with the very finger that housed the ring itself. Eddard had large, thick hands, with fingers to match, but one by one they began to shrink into something thinner, more elegant, with longer fingernails and less hair. Then his other hand changed to match, and his arms were the next thing to go. Unlike some lord Eddard knew, he tried to keep himself in reasonable shape through exercise, but the athletic muscles build up in his arms fell away in seconds, leaving them looking quite feminine indeed.

From there, the changes started to pick up in speed. Wherever they were happening, that same cold numbing feeling enveloped that part of Eddard’s body, letting him know as his feet, legs, and lower body changed even as he couldn’t see what changes they were through his clothes. Said clothes were beginning to fit quite poorly though, especially his breeches. But when his torso was next to change, there was no way he could ignore what was happening there. His waist cinched in tighter, giving him an hourglass silhouette even as his shoulders grew narrower, and then the big change happened: breasts began to grow on his chest. Not modest ones, but large, firm, eye-catching breasts that many women in the land would gladly kill to possess for themselves.

Speaking of which, there next came the matter of Eddard’s face. Normally blocky, stark, and not particularly handsome, those details were smoothed away like rock eroded by a river until what was left behind was known by many as the most beautiful face of any woman in all the Seven Kingdoms. Full, pouty lips, long eyelashes, and high-boned cheeks. Matching his face, Eddard’s short dark hair grew out and lightened considerably, becoming long, luxuriously voluminous, and as gold as the coins that flowed from the Lannister’s homeland.

His clothes were the last things to change, once his body had completely converted. Plain, dull, and practical, Eddard’s morning clothes melded together, changed material, changed color, until Eddard was wearing a dress perfectly tailored to match his new body. It was made of the most expensive fabric gold could buy, dyed a rich red hue, with hold on the sleeves of the arms and in the center of the torso, with a red lion imposed over it there. It gave much in the way of modesty in his lower half, though definitely allowed anyone looking at Eddard walking away to see how well gifted he was from behind. There was less so in the chest, as it bared as much soft supple skin there as royal modesty could allow. The last touch came in more jewelry, as gold rings with rubies appeared on several of Eddard’s fingers, and a crown appeared at his temple, barely visible through his hair.

Turning to the small mirror in his room, Eddard could only stare at what had happened to him, in the same way Sansa herself was gaping, unable to believe what her eyes were showing her. Eddard was a man of the Old Gods, so he did not disbelieve in the powers of sorcery and magic in the same way so many in the southron kingdoms did. That said, it was one thing to believe, and another to see the effects of it first hand.

Somehow, someway, Eddard Stark had completely transformed into a copy of Cersei Baratheon. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Eddard saw a look of guilt pass over his daughter’s face, reflected in the mirror. With that a sudden fury overtook him, and he spun around, pointing a sharp-nailed finger in her direction. “What has happened to me?” Eddard demanded, though making sure his voice, which now sounded as identical to the queen’s own voice as his body was to hers, was not loud enough to penetrate the walls or door. After all, his personal guards would surely be confused to hear it, and even more to enter and find that their Lord was gone, and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms stood in his place.

Not used to being accosted in such a tone, by Cersei Baratheon or Eddard Stark, Sansa took a step backward, fear clear on her face. “I...I do not know, father, I swear it by the old gods and new!” Seeing that terror clear in her voice, and on her face, made Eddard freeze. Why...why was he so angry? Eddard had always prided himself on being quite slow to anger, though quite difficult to deal with once brought there. And at his own daughter...was this more of the sorcery at work?

Taking a deep breath, Eddard fought to push down the anger threatening to overwhelm him, then told Sansa, “I apologize, Sansa. Please, tell me what you know about this, should you know anything of it at all.” It felt strange to apologize, despite it being a thing Eddard had done for many people throughout his life.

Beginning to look more calm, Sansa told her father, “You see, father, I was very much hoping to remain here in the capital, and while I was out with the Septa and Arya the other day, I came across a strange man in the market. He offered me this ring, telling me it would be able to grant my heart’s greatest desire...” It was clear from how she told the story that Sansa was ashamed to have possibly caused this mess.

Looking at the ring, which had resized to fit Eddard’s much thinner fingers, he felt the anger rise up in him again, but he was prepared for it now, doing everything he could to control himself. “I understand you meant no harm. We will deal with the sorcery later, for now I will focus on making sure we can still escape King’s Landing.” Sansa looked like she was about to argue, but a sharp glare from Eddard made sure she shut her mouth. Seeing how easily just a look from him was able to compel her caused a rush of excitement at the power he wielded, but Eddard took a deep breath and turned his back on his daughter, telling her, “Do not speak to anyone about what has happened, not even Arya or your Septa, without my instruction to do so first.”

Then, Eddard approached the door and opened it, trying to walk outside the room looking as regal and confident as the real Cersei Baratheon. Perhaps it was the fact that Eddard had in fact lived his entire life as a Lord, or perhaps it was more of this strange new body influencing him, but he felt he was pulling off quite well. He was even able to mask his surprise when the guard standing outside the door was not one of the northmen, but a Goldcloak. “Ready to return to your quarters, Your Grace?” the man asked, and Eddard gave the barest suggestion of nod before following the man through the Red Keep to the queen’s bedchamber.

Entering it by himself, Eddard half-feared he would find the ‘real’ Cersei there waiting for him, but no such event occurred. He was alone in there. Eddard let out a small sigh of relief, and began to think on this problem.

First of all, he was appalled by the instincts assailing his honorable mind. He had rarely thought of Cersei with anything resembling compassion, but it seemed the woman behind the pretty face was far worse than he’d ever realized. So much anger, so much hatred, so much self-importance. But even thinking of those things as negative traits was hard, as Eddard realized that Cersei almost felt pride in them all, and that feeling was rubbing up against him as well.

Second, it seemed more than just his body had changed. In addition to that, the person escorting him had been replaced. With no extra Cersei around...was there even still an Eddard Stark? A haunting question, but one that Eddard’s darker instincts was whispering could work out well. After all, without that honorable fool to get in Cersei’s way, so much more could be done. Eddard had to remind himself that he _was_ that ‘honorable fool’, and political scheming was beneath him.

Third, he needed to think of a plan. As he told Sansa before, it seemed Eddard would need to leave King’s Landing before considering how to dispel whatever was causing this. The only issue with that was, as the Queen, it would be difficult to leave the capital. Still, he felt a sudden confidence he could manage it, if he really wanted to. All he would need to do was tell everyone he would go with the Stark girls to the North, help return them to Winterfell. Though just thinking about that cold place, which had been home to Eddard almost his entire life, now made him want to gag. What a dreary, depressing place...He was starting to realize the biggest issue with being saddled with those Cersei thoughts was that, even though he could easily pick them out, it was hard not to agree with them.

From there, Eddard did his best to live Cersei’s life while trying to get his escape plan prepared. Pretending to be the Queen was incredibly easy, especially when it required him to be caustic to others. It seemed that Eddard Stark was officially ‘missing’, with many in the city thinking he had been secretly disposed of. Robert was inconsolable, but that just meant he wasn’t around to bother Eddard. Even as his friend, he dreaded having to deal with Robert drunk and wanting comfort from his ‘wife’.

Still, he hadn’t really expected how busy Cersei’s schedule was. Being Hand of the King had been difficult and time-consuming, but being the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, if anything, had even more time commitments. And as they dragged on and on and on, social events and diplomatic meetings and royal dinners, Eddard began to embrace the hatred. Hatred for all these stupid people, delaying his plans, making him wait for his return to his real home.

Several days of being Cersei in, Eddard was told his ‘son’ wanted to see him, and he could only hope they meant Tommen.

They did not.

Perhaps of all the people in King’s Landing, Eddard had hated Joffrey close to the most. Easily one of the most sadistic people, child or adult, he had ever met, the blond boy entered Eddard’s bedchamber and Eddard prepared himself to endure a rough few hours with the boy.

But, to his surprise, there was nothing to hate. Joffrey was polite, respectful, even loving towards his mother. Combined with the feeling of genuine love welling up inside him, Eddard found he did care for the boy now. No, more than that, he loved him. By the time Joffrey left the room, Eddard could not feel even an ounce of hatred towards his son. That boy was special, and if others couldn’t see that, they must have been blind fools who could not accept greatness when it was right under their noses.

It wasn’t long after that when another courtier approached Eddard, with another summons for a meeting, this time from another of his children: Sansa Stark. He had found himself missing the girl, and when she came in, Eddard was ready to spend some quality time with his wonderful daughter. But as she walked into the room, Eddard found himself growing angry again. There she was, the budding flower, the apple of everyone’s eye. So in love with Joffrey, trying to take him away from Eddard. The little trallop. “Father, have you been able to secure our plans to Winterfell?”

At the question, Eddard realized he actually hadn’t thought of those plans all day. But he poured himself some wine, something he’d been doing much more of as the days went by, and waved the question away. “It will be taken care of,” he told Sansa. Even as he said it, Eddard realized the idea was starting to sound rather droll. Really, going back to that frozen castle? In the middle of nowhere? Only memories of his life there made him consider sticking to the idea. Doing his best to smile pleasantly at his daughter, Eddard asked Sansa, “Tell me of how your days have been, sweetling.”

But as Sansa talked on and on and on about her boring little life, Eddard found himself getting rather impatient. Eventually, in the middle of some story of her learning embroidery or some other rubbish from her Septa, Eddard interrupted her, unable to take anymore. “Thank you, but I do have some business to see to. See yourself out.” As Sansa bowed, looking unsure of what was going on, and left, Eddard realized that the love he’d once had for her was running out fast. What was building up in its wake was a mixture of antipathy and jealousy. Cersei was supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the world, was she not? Then why was everyone fawning over some girl who wasn’t even an adult yet?

The problem was, Eddard hadn’t even had a chance to recover from the whirlwind of emotions Sansa brought up when someone else entered his room...Jaime Lannister, wearing his resplendent Kingsguard armor. The man who had killed so many of Eddard’s men. Eddard waited for the hatred to come up in him, as it so easily did with the many fools who surrounded him...but it didn’t. A very different hot feeling did though, making his cheeks flush as Jaime crossed the room, and their lips met in a kiss. All rational thought was gone, and Eddard lost himself in the moment. When it ended, he whispered, “What are you doing?”

The question made Jaime laugh. “Robert has gone hunting, and I’ve made clear I’ll be guarding you personally, and you’re not to be disturbed.” Then, the kissing resumed. Eddard’s brain struggled to make sense of this even as his body threw itself into the contact completely. His suspicions...had been correct? Jaime Lannister had been cucking the king? It was his children that bore the Baratheon name?

Even as intellectually he knew it was a terrible, dishonorable thing, Eddard’s instinct was to laugh. Of course, of course that was what Cersei had done. She was beautiful, deserving so much better than her fat slob of a husband. Jaime, regardless of their relation, was one of the most handsome men in the world. They matched perfectly.

They started stripping each other of their clothes, and soon Eddard was on the bed, being fucked by Jaime. It felt incredible, and as the ecstasy of the sex built inside him, his thoughts started to really change.

Why would he want to go back to being Eddard Stark? Living in Winterfell, with his ugly wife and awful children, in that cold inhospitable place?

No.

Being Cersei Baratheon was better in every possible way. The sensuality, the power, the privilege. Eddard Stark had been so obsessed with honor, doing the ‘right thing’. But now, Cersei knew there was no ‘right thing’. Whatever she wanted was ‘right’, and she could do whatever she wanted to get it. The first orgasm she received in her new body game from her brother, and she loved it, and she loved him.

Once they were all cleaned up, Cersei smiled, thinking of all she could do now. Knowing everything that Eddard once did, she would be able to maneuver into even better positions. As for the Stark girls, they’d be hostages to make sure the North would behave. Even as much as she’d begun to hate them, some remnant of Eddard in Cersei meant she’d never be able to condone having them killed, but surely being married off to the right Lannister bannermen would suit her needs.

Yes, the Seven Kingdoms were in for quite the time under their new and improved Queen.


End file.
